Bronze Bullet
by Assassination
Summary: They're assassins-for-hire, they love their job. Professionals that haven't been caught yet and don't regret what they do. Being hunted down and doing their job, what else could they need? -rated for swearing and death scenes- -AU- R&R please
1. Chapter 1

**There will be Shiro teasing Ichigo in this fic, but no yaoi. And Ichigo OOCness...I guess.**

_Steady your hand (I am losing sight again) Fire your guns, it's time to run! Blow me away!_ (Blow me away by Breaking Benjamin)

* * *

Snow white hair fluttered in the cold distant breeze as golden orbs flickered dangerously, a silver object held tightly in his right hand, cocked and the head of it pointed at a man with gelled back brown hair. This was his profession and he would pull the damn trigger when the time was exactly right.

His pale face scrunched up in disgust as a smile spread across the target's lips.

Furrowing his thin white brows, deathly pale lips parted as the puffs of smoke fluttered before his eyes, the cold autumn air nipped at his bare face, narrowing his eyes once the white clouds floated up and away, clearing his vision once again.

"Die,"

A loud crack echoed throughout the busy street, the moon's rays vanishing behind a cloud as the bronze bullet within the silver weapon wizzed across the darkened shroud of the night, screams reaching his deathly pale ears a second later.

"Mission accomplished,"

The albino smirked and turned smartly on his left heel, gun held tightly in his grasp as his leather combat boots scrapped across the concrete of the rooftop, the deadly black cloud shifting and allowing little light on the surface of the ground he stood on.

A strand touched his face for a second then shied away hastily as a sickening look entered the yellow orbs as he disappeared into the darkness of the doorway.

The cries continued to sound as the screeches of sirens blared angrily as the albino shut the door behind him with a grin as his eyes lifted to a vibrant haired man leaning against the wall with half-lidded brown pools, boredom flickering in them as they glanced up to the other. A smirk tugged at the man's lips, "By the screams I'd say you didn't miss, as usual."

"Not at all," a disoriented giggle responded as golden orbs looked over his white clothed shoulder, "though it pisses me off that he got to smile before I shot 'im."

"Shit happens, Shiro,"

The addressed man walked over to the couch presented before him and plopped his bottom on the soft cushion, reaching into his left back pocket, grabbing hold of a silk black cloth and pulling it out while cocking the gun's head so it was pointing at the ceiling, gently wiping away something that may have gotten on it, shining his prized possession.

A tanned hand held fast to the gun in his own grasp, tilting his head to stare out the window as bright flashing colors flashed hastily, the noise of everyone's voice raising to an irritating level as blue and red bounced about the barely lightened room the two stood in.

His ears perked up once Shiro planted his left heel on the coffee table, swinging his right and connecting the ankles effortlessly while forming his lips to make the sign 'o', whistling a second later with a wicked grin curling his lips. Golden hues flowing over to the window and placing the black fabric to the side, standing and walking over to the window, placing his left hand on the glass, cold to the touch.

"Well, well," he commented, raising a thin brow, "I think we'll have to leave sooner than usual, Ichigo,"

The adressed orange haired form nodded, lifting his right hand slightly, twirling the weapon skillfully around his slender index finger, "So...who's the next target?"

"Nah, nah, you get 'im this time, partner." the white haired man sighed while shaking his head and turning slightly to see that Ichigo's brown orbs were dark, continuing to spin the gun. "I don't wanna be the one to kill them every single time, and I know you've been itchin' to pull that trigger."

Ichigo's lips straightened. He hated to admit it, but the bleached form was right. He's been itching to pull the trigger weeks after their last assignment, which was his job. The red lights bounced off the albino in a sinful grace, showing the blood thirsty killer he was. They were both insane, both killers for hire...for those who had very good connections.

"So, who's the next target...for you?"

A pink tongue poked out and Ichigo licked his dry lips with a dull chuckle, bringing the dark shaded gun up and putting it in his black jacket's pocket, looking out the window to the darkened sky, "Gin Ichimaru."

Shiro laughed, his shoulders shaking at the force, eyes playful as they trailed down to his black-nailed hand holding his own custom-made weapon. "Sounds like fun, now I wanna join in on the fun."

Ichigo shrugged, Shiro had always seen things like a bloody party after all, and the sounds of screams were music to the albino's ears, the blood a delicious sight. Thinking about it now, the vibrant haired eighteen year old began to let his train of thought travel to when the other wouldn't need him anymore and shoot him himself. Just to get the crimson liquid to pour and stare, stare...with those crazed eyes.

Shaking his head at the thought, the brown eyed man looked up at the white figure, "It might be...if the cops are around, I'm sure it'll be one hell of a party then."

"Yeah, almost forgot about them,"

No wonder he enjoyed working with this deranged albino, always ready for a fight with the law, running with the wind brushing harshly against his face. But...no one had bothered to ask the man about his past, mostly because they feared that deadly bronze bullet piercing them in the head.

Not even he dared to ask, figuring it was something he'd wait for until Shiro told him.

They were partners after all.

* * *

The orange haired form stood before the window, pulling on the uniform he had to wear to get at the target, given to him by the man who hired them for this: Kisuke Urahara. He frowned, realizing he had to pose as a college student just to get close enough and shoot the prey in the head, or any other site he preferred. Like the sleeping albino behind him, he was a professional at this art as well.

Sighing, he continued to button the pure white shirt up, fidgeting a bit since the tan pants were so uncomfortable, didn't the employer ever think about that? Not that it mattered much anyway, he could flee even in this ridiculous get-up. Leaving the last button alone, he turned, grabbing hold of his jacket, yanking it on, slipping his left arm in effortlessly, then the right, turning once an all too familiar whistle rang throughout the room.

"Wow, don't you look hot," Shiro teased, laughing once a scowl spread on the other's handsome features, "'ey, just saying. Anyway, want me to back you up on this one? Heard on the street this guy's pretty popular and stinkin' rich."

Ichigo shrugged, "Dunno, I'll steal some money from him while I'm at it, still good at picking people's pockets. Wonder if that squirt's going to be there."

"You mean that little pathetic excuse for a genious in the police academy who passed with 'flying colors'? Pft, please..." Golden orbs rolled, lifting his hands up and swinging them to the side, "can't catch us now, never will."

A chuckle passed peach colored lips, "That's pushing it a bit."

"But it's true."

Brown eyes scanned the half-dressed albino, seeing that he had bandages around his hands, like always, a patch on his shoulder from a scar from long ago possibly, the shadows added a darker effect on the man's sculpted form. It was strange how people compared them to being twins. It wasn't true. The black nails glistened gracefully in the sunlight as Shiro lifted his left hand up, running his long fingers through his hair, stifling a yawn.

Proving once again that he was not a morning person.

Dropping the alabaster colored hand, the albino turned, walking back into the bedroom to get ready, the sounds of clicks and clacks exiting the plain room, indicating he was readying his gun and getting ready to hit the road once again.

'One hell of a party', indeed.

* * *

Ichigo stood before the gates of the school, staring at it with a bored expression, his backpack slung over his shoulder lazily, making him seem like a complete normal kid attending college to make his parents proud.

...right.

Turning around, his frown deepened once he saw Shiro waving with an idiotic grin on his face. Now he regretted letting the man drive his car.

Pulling away, golden orbs watched the road with furrowed brows, looking from side to side, counting six police cars total, a crazed grin spreading across his lips, pleased that this was going to be interesting after all, idly wondering how his partner would get to the car without getting noticed. But getting out of shitty situations was Ichigo's cup of tea, he could pull it off no problem.

Said man looked around, sighing and slowly making his way inside the building, his tennis shoes tapping the ground with determination as his orange bangs flowed in the wind carelessly, spiky strands tickling his nose slightly. Irritation written all over his young face. Geez, he got out of High School and had to go back through this shit again? Never again will he let his itch to make him go through this again.

That would definitely be Shiro's task.

The open flaps of his black jacket fluttered about hastily as people entered the building in order, not like how it usually was, pushing their way inside like animals. He stopped automatically in his tracks once the screech of tires reached his ear, turning with narrowed eyes at the vehicle, painted a deep shade of blue, the passenger door being pushed open to reveal his target.

"Mr. Ichimaru, I'll see you in exactly three hours, correct?"

The man with white hair turned and smiled in a fox-like way, a shudder bolting up the orange haired assassin's back for the first time in his life, cursing himself silently while the man's lips parted.

"Right, Kira, I'll be back soon," Ichimaru reassured, shutting the door and waving while his driver drove off to find a parking spot to wait at, then turned and opened his ruby eyes slightly, tilting his head to the side once he caught sight of his, soon-to-be, death giver. "Ah, you must be a big fan of my work to wait for me."

The vibrant haired assassin blinked, then nodded, trying to recall what this guy did on the report that was given to him.

A bony hand was placed on his back, Gin's left hand gesturing towards the direction of the school, "Shall we head in?"

"Sure..."

* * *

Though Ichigo would never admit it, he wanted to shoot the guy now, the lecture was torture, annoying. He stood as Gin lifted his right hand, mouthing moving and talking about something about 1990 or some other crap. Not that the killer for hire cared, heading towards the door to exit the gymnasium, thanking God the teachers were in the way front, not able to stop him.

Setting the bag down, he unzipped it and reached inside, grabbing hold of his prized possession, lifting it out of the bag and readying himself in the doorway, the barrel pointing at the prey with furrowed brows and narrowed brown orbs, blinking once a familiar name was called.

"Now, I would like the school's creative committee member: Orihime Inoue,"

The vibrant haired man cursed as a girl with long orange hair made her way onto the stage, her deep grey eyes the same as always. Great, his old classmate had to witness this. Returning his attention to the fox-like man, he cocked the gun sideways, a habit he had gotten into once Shiro started telling him he needed a pose, to at least look like he was delivering death to someone's doorstep.

His eyes narrowed ever more as he pulled the trigger, a silver bullet wizzing out after the loud bang, watching intensively as it went straight through the target's forehead, Orihime crying out in shock, turning to face the direction where it had come from, only to see a shutting door. Clapping her hands over her mouth as gasps and screams filled the room.

The crimson blood tainted the ground, most getting on her peach colored skin, the skirt painted the color as the body crashed onto the wooden surface heavily, eyes wide and lifeless.

Of course, the spiky haired assassin was running down the halls as well as everyone else who was shaken to the core, his weapon shoved into his jacket, pushing the doors open with his hands, looking from side to side with narrowed eyes, his heart slowing as Shiro drove up, the passenger door wide open, welcoming. Quickly getting in, he slammed the door shut, brown eyes widening as they trailed over to the entrance to see the long haired Inoue stand there with hurt eyes as she watched him vanish once again from her life.

"By all the screamin'...I'm guessing that you got him?" the albino questioned, looking over at Ichigo from the corner of his eye, seeing brown orbs stare back.

"Yeah."


	2. Chapter 2

**There will be Shiro teasing Ichigo in this fic, but no yaoi. And Ichigo OOCness...I guess.**

_And I should've been down when you made me insecure. So break me down if it makes you feel right! And hate me now if it keeps you all right! You can break me down if it takes all your might! 'cause I'm so much more...than meets the eye. _(Breakdown by Seether)

* * *

Renji sat there at his desk with a grimace. This report was not what he had wanted to see so early in the morning. And the same description of the death, same description of the bullet, and it was always the same for everything. No one knew who had pulled the trigger, only knowing that they heard a gunshot, and fled before they, too, were killed.

The witness's reports were pathetic and sad.

Running his left hand's fingers through his long crimson threads, groaning as he dropped his head. Taking the painkillers for his headaches wasn't doing much, and his love-life was dwindling to nothingness. Rukia always stayed up late just to see him return from late shifts and to say goodnight and that was it.

It was sad.

No, saying it was _sad_ is an understatement. There was no word that could describe how he felt.

Assassinations with no motive made no sense, and they were just piling up on his desk every one or two days, occasionally a week. And that in itself was rare.

"Abarai,"

The redhead lifted his head, bags under his eyes indicating that these murders were causing immense amounts of loss of the much needed sleep he did need and should deserve. But he was loyal to his job, wouldn't let the need for slumber overtake him.

A tiny boy that looked like he belonged in middle school stood before him, his pure snow white hair pulled back, a simple bang hanging in his face, blue uniform on. Right, that was the kid who passed the Police Academy with flying colors.

"A car fled from the scene earlier today,"

Renji stood abruptly, reddish-brown eyes wide, hands slammed onto the table, open. A tingling feeling pulsed in the palms but he quickly dismissed it. "Where did you get this information from, Toshiro?" he demanded, his tattooed brows furrowed.

Toshiro turned, lifting his left hand up, gesturing for someone to enter Renji Abarai's office, a young girl with long, flowing, orange hair entering with her skirt covered in blood, face and skin clean after being wiped clean by the young police officer's partner. Her grey eyes steadied on Renji with sadness flickering in them.

"She saw it, and...who was inside," Toshiro explained, looking at Renji with aqua colored eyes. "And...she was next to Gin Ichimaru when he was killed."

Cherry orbs shifted over to the girl, easily regonizing her, a deep frown stitched across his lips, "So, Orihime...who was in the car?"

She visibly swallowed, tears forming in her eyes, dropping her gaze to her shoes, fidgeting with her pale fingers. "...um...y-you know him, Renji..."

The redhead's expression fell, of course...

Falling back into his chair, he stared at the papers scattered about his oak desk, hands placed on his legs, digging into the black fabric, eyebrows furrowed as a pained expression faded into view on his grown face. Glancing up with his eyes, the officer let out a heavy breath. "Leave," he commanded, voice strained and angered, "now."

The white haired officer blinked, but did so, gently taking Orihime's hand and pulling her out of the office while Renji cursed softly, placing his right elbow on the armrest of the chair, resting his forehead against the hand with another curse.

_Not him...God...don't tell me it's him,_ he thought while shutting his eyes, the world's noises drowning out.

* * *

They've been driving for hours now, Ichigo having changed in the backseat earlier on, wearing a faded blue shirt, dark shaded jeans and black sneakers, leaning back in the passenger's seat with half-lidded brown eyes. Mind pondering on random subjects as Shiro hummed to a slightly familiar tune that the orange haired man recalled from somewhere.

The albino had many, many talents. Ichigo would admit that. But sometimes he questioned what made the golden eyed man select this profession and choose him as his partner. Always a mystery, surrounded in secrets.

Maybe someday Shiro will open up and tell him things about himself.

"C'mon baby, let's get started. I don't wanna wait, let's start right now. I'm not worried 'bout gettin' caught, c'mon, baby, let's get started,"

Brown orbs traveled over to the alabaster skinned man, seeing his pale lips move, tilting his head from side to side with a grin. Carefree as always, nothing new there.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Just my friends, they'll get the dirty details. Oh, don't be that way, baby, c'mon...let's start right now,"

Singing...another specialty the assassin possessed, and seeming very pleased with himself at the not needed effort to pull it off. Sighing, the orange haired assassin tilted his head to the side, blinking once his cell phone blared out the song _C'mon, C'mon_ as Shiro continued singing, not noticing as a lightly tanned hand reached down, reaching into his pocket and pulling the device out.

Flipping the black phone open, the killer-for-hire placed it against his ear with a scowl.

"What is it?" he spoke evenly, voice showing the edge of stress.

_"Ah, good, you answered!"_

The passenger groaned in a low tone, cursing his luck. Lifting his other hand, he rubbed his forehead with a frown. "What do you want Urahara?" he growled. That man always had to be so...fucking...happy. Twenty-four seven.

_"You killed Gin, great job! But, my dear boy...I have another job for you."_

"What is it this time?"

_"I want you to assassinate Ukitake,"_

"You had better double my salary for this, you leech," Ichigo hissed angrily, tightening his grasp on the phone. He knew the man he had to kill, Ukitake was his father's friend after all, next to the bastard Kisuke. "I'm being hired to kill my dad's best friend, so you had better have a lot of cash to pay for that service."

_"Oh, of course, Kurosaki! I know that, and I will give you three thousand five hundred to assassinate him, along with the thousand for killing Ichimaru."_

Damn man knew how to make a deal, the vibrant haired assassin had to admit. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his head, not even noticing the golden orbs that slid over in his direction, watching him intensively.

"Where is the target?" he questioned regretfully, guilt wrapping around his beating heart, tugging the beating organ down into his stomach.

_"Well, well..."_ Amusement was heard clearly in the man's tone, _"agreeing, I'm impressed. None-the-less...he will be arriving in the outskirts of where you are tomorrow."_

Ichigo nodded slowly, "Right."

And with that, he shut the cell phone, eyes shut and leaning the side of his forehead against the cool glass of his car, lowering the phone onto his lap and parting his lips slightly with his brows knitting together. If he had known he'd have to kill people he knew, he wouldn't have taken this job.

...maybe. He was one for the thrill.

And he had an equally professional partner to have. Opening his eyes, he removed his warm skin from the window, glancing over to Shiro, seeing that he was looking straight ahead, leaning back into the seat with that insane grin still in place as the lightly tanned man shoved the phone back into his pant's pocket.

"We're stopping at a hotel before we leave this city," he explained, frown set, "that Urahara bastard hired me to kill Ukitake tomorrow. We'll be getting four thousand five hundred out of both assassinations if I do this."

The albino shrugged, "Well, Ichi, I guess we'll stop at that Motel six for tonight." Shiro paused and quirked a brow, then lowered it. "Come to think of it, I think that guy's pretty damn popular in the medical field, along with that one chick...eh...Unohana, or something."

"Unfortunately," Ichigo sighed deeply, shaking his head, looking over at the white haired assassin with an unpleasant look, "and I know the target, kinda fucked up if you ask me."

Shiro didn't respond, eyes staying on the road, his eyes half-lidded, glazed, as though lost in thought, in his past. Though he looked calm, his chests raising and descending told other wise. He wasn't happy.

The brown eyed form fell silent, looking at the blackened road as well with an uncomfortable silence hanging over them for once. It coiled around them, making it ever worse than it should have been. Crossing his arms, Ichigo leaned his head to the side, resting it against the cool glass once again, closing his eyes, ears taking in the, slight, uneven breathing of his partner, the occasional sounds when the wheels ran over a bump in the road and the music flowing out from the radio.

* * *

Shiro pulled up in the parking lot of the motel, glancing over to the other with a heavy sigh. After everything they did in two days, he sometimes questioned why his trigger finger was getting itchier and itchier with each passing day.

Reaching his right hand over after releasing the steering wheel, he placed his cold hand on the opposite's shoulder, shaking him gently as another car pulled up beside them. A Mustang by the look of it, a new one too. The driver's door was opened, revealing a woman with short hair, seeming as it was tied back into a bun, clipped back. She was wearing glasses, a book held to her chest as her eyes scanned the area, then shook her head, heading into the motel.

_Freak,_ the albino thought bitterly, a disgusted, disturbed look crossing his features.

"'ey, get your ass up, Ichigo," he sighed, shaking his head. Geez, even though the bright haired assassin was a man now, he looked, and acted, like such a kid when he slept.

Grumbling, the orange haired Kurosaki opened his eyes, pushing himself up, lifting his left hand and rubbing his eye clear of any sleep, veering over to Shiro with a quirked brow. "We're there already?"

Shiro snorted, rolling his golden orbs, "Naw, I just wanted to fuck around with you. ...of course we're at the motel, dumbass."

"Geez, I just woke up, chill," Ichigo yawned, grabbing the handle to the door and pulling it, pushing the door open and exiting the car along with the albino once he turned the engine off and took the keys out of the ignition. Stretching his arms up, the lightly tanned killer-for-hire stalked up to the building, glancing over his shoulder to look at his partner. "We should change the bullets soon..."

"Why?"

"Well, the police might find us if we keep using the same bullets..." he explained, stopping at the door and dropping his arms, turning halfway to face the white toned man. "I mean...Orihime was at my assignment to kill Ichimaru at the school."

Shiro's eyes widened painfully, "Don't tell me she fuckin' **_saw_** you."

Ichigo blinked, then shook his head, "Highly doubt it." Turning forward, both pushed the door open, entering and walking up to the desk as Shiro reached into his back pocket for the money nessassary to pay for a room for the night. Looking down at the handful of twenties, the albino tisked.

Only enough for one night until they met up with Kisuke to claim their payment.

"Two bed room," Shiro spoke, handing over two twenties, the woman nodded and took it with a suspicious glance at the two. And Shiro, not able to pass the opportunity up, wrapped his arm around Ichigo's neck, planting a kiss on the other's cheek. "Don't worry, babe," he grinned, looking at the blonde woman, "we'll _try_ not to disturb the people around us."

"Shut up, Shiro!" Ichigo snapped, frowning deeply, no blush on his cheeks like the albino had hoped, which had happened a lot in the beginning until the spiky haired man got used to it. Pushing away, he snatched the key away from the wide eyed figure, storming over to the room with a whistling assassin behind him. "Flirtatious bastard..."


End file.
